Rogue Reverie
by Queen Isolde
Summary: [Discontinued] Crown Duel modern day fic.
1. Chapter 1 : Loss

**Rogue Reverie**

**o O o**

**Prologue**

I hope that, twenty years from now, all the good I've tried to accomplish won't be for nothing. I hope that all the people I've lost won't be for nothing. I hope that, in twenty years, fifty even, our city will be able to live the way we've lived for decades. Without corruption, without unjustifiable reformations and twisted laws that cost the lives of those who refuse to follow them.

My mother was one of them. The _eccentrics_, the Brugh called them. She was of their family, of their blood, of their ways. And my father fell in love with her.

My mother and her family were not understood by the government, and I think in the end that's what got the city wrapped up in the political war that took so many lives with its downfall. Because the government feared what they didn't understand. They didn't understand my mother, or her family, and they didn't understand why my father fought so hard to see a good leader restored to the city.

They didn't understand what we stood for. And I still don't think they do.

I won't lie to you, and I hope if someone is reading this, in some country archive, that they will understand why the Brugh went up against the city, and its leaders.

To this day, I don't think I even understand.

I know at the time, I wanted to escape. I even considered running to our forests, leaving my father to go and live with my grandparents. But I couldn't run, because at the time, I had no idea how much the war would change our city.

I had no idea how much it would change me.

**o O o**

**Chapter One**

"We should get back to the apartment," Mel sighed, breaking the silence.

Truth to tell, she didn't want to go back there. All Meliara Astiar wanted to do was run. Away from the Brugh, away from her father, and away from her problems. Going back the apartment meant another night of boosting cars, spying on rooftops, and nicking food from the local markets. Not to mention, evading the authorities. Mel didn't want to go back to that.

It was a life she had grown up to inherit. Her father had been their neighborhood's most fervent liberalist, and that in turn got him into trouble. Many of Mel's childhood memories were paved with visits to the County Jail to bail her father out of yet another "tight spot" as her mother had told her. But that was under the old mayor. The new one would not suffer the Brugh, and its cause.

"Should?" she heard Ewan say, drawing her out of her memories. Mel's stomach tickled at the sound of his voice. She let out another sigh and let herself relax against Ewan, his arms around her waist. The two were standing under an overhang, rain falling in thick sheets casting a grey glow on everything around them.

"I'm tired of it," she said, finally speaking what had been bothering her.

"Tired of what?" Ewan asked. Mel turned around to face him.

She hated to see the worry in his eyes; she hated to see him worry at all, especially about her. He had been the one person she could turn to since her father had decided to go against the city years ago. Bran was there for her, but he was older and had to devote all of his time to the Burgh's cause. Oria was her friend as well, but because of her skill of getting into locked places, and boosting cars was a second nature to the girl, most of Oria's time was spent on the streets.

Mel smiled, "Not us," she said, tracing his jaw line. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of having to run from the police, but having to spy on them just to have a chance to prove that we're right about Merindar." Mel's voice sounded drained. "I'm just tired of it," she whispered.

Ewan smiled, one of those smiles that made Mel's stomach flutter still. The two teenagers had grown up together, and only begun dating a year ago.

"That's what I love about you, Mel," he said, not hesitating at the 'L' word. "I've seen how tired you've been, how many times you've wanted to run…but you haven't," Ewan said, pulling her close to him. "You're the strongest person I know," he whispered into her hair.

"I'm not as strong as you think," Mel confided. The times when she'd taken her brother's car and driven to Morrison Forests, running to the trees, and not returning until the next morning, came to the surface of her mind. When she'd lost her mother, Mel had tried to run, but Ewan and her brother had stopped her.

Mel felt Ewan tense for a moment. Pulling back she looked into his face, trying to see what was wrong. His face remained unchangeable. She took the chance, and leaned towards him, her face hovering inches from his.

"Mel?"

She could feel his warm breath on her cold skin. "Yes…?" She began to ask, before Ewan kissed her. Mel slid her arms around Ewan's neck, enjoying the heat she felt running through her body at the touch of his lips. After a few moments, Ewan slowly pulled back, reluctantly Mel could tell.

"Mel, will you…" Ewan trailed off, unable to find the words he'd practiced over and over in his head for the past week. "Will you–"

Before Ewan could finish his sentence, the ring tone of Mel's cell phone interrupted him, breaking the sound of the patter of rain, and their conversation. Reaching into her sweatshirt pocket she answered the call, regretting the abrupt interruption.

"It's me."

"Mel, look…you've got to get back here. Now." Bran's voice sounded deep on the other end. "It's dad, he's hurt…bad," he finished after a long pause.

And Mel her heart sink in her chest. She'd heard that tone from her brother before; she'd heard those words before. She didn't want to hear them now.

"I'll be right there," she said and ended the call.

Mel stared at her cell phone screen, the shock settling into her mind. Ewan had an idea of what happened, but didn't want to ask. He opened his mouth to say something; Mel looked up and spoke before he could.

"We have to go."

Ewan nodded mutely, already seeing the distant expression setting itself in her features. Already one opportunity lost. He only hoped that he'd have another chance to ask her.

**o O o**

Mel's steps were muffled by the thick soles of her shoes, her breathing in swift spurts, used to this kind of work out, as she jogged up the steps winding upwards in a square pattern, Ewan following closely behind. The elevator was broken, but that only made Mel run faster. She ignored the burning in her legs, not used to such a spurt of exercise, and ignored her racing pulse making her head feel dizzy.

When Mel and Ewan finally reached the tenth floor of the apartment building, Mel pounded on the door demanding entrance. After a moment, the sound of locks being undone could be heard from the other side, and soon the door opened. Mel rushed in, Ewan behind her.

Oria closed the door behind the two of them, her face grim. Mel recognized Jack, Naomi and Hunter—the older leaders of their cause—in the common room. The TV was buzzing in the background. Naomi was pacing nervously. All three of them were drenched with rain, their clothes soaked through. They would have to be dried somehow. Hunter had a gauze bandage on his left arm, blood starting to dot through the white dressing. A fire was already blazing in the main fireplace, heat radiating through the common room.

"Where is he?" Mel demanded. Her voice was hushed with emotion.

Oria nodded to the back of the apartment. Mel turned and headed into the room, her mind forming different scenarios of what happened to her father: it was a shot in the arm, something that could heal with time—if it hadn't hit a major blood vessel—or he sprained his ankle and the circulation would return to normal in a few days, he slipped and hit his head—a simple concussion, nothing more.

Ewan took a seat next to Hunter, running his hands through his hair, letting out a deep sigh.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

Hunter glanced at Naomi and Jack before answering. "We were on the roof. Must have thought us burglars. I could have sworn the Chief was there, I thought I recognized him," Hunter's voice seemed distant. His head dipped in his hands, his fingers rubbing his temples. "He saw the gun first and pushed me out of the way…"

"Damn blues wouldn't even care if they hit a stray child," Jack muttered, his face dark.

Realization dawned on Ewan: Hunter felt responsible for what had happened to Mel's dad. "You would've done the same for any one of us, don't blame yourself," Ewan said. After a thought, he added, "Blaming yourself won't do anyone any good."

Hunter nodded, his gaze still distant. His one defense against despair.

Mel walked across the apartment and into the room that held her father. None of the scenarios matched when she finally entered the room. She saw her brother kneeling by their dad, bandaging his stomach. Mel ran to the bedside and dropped to her knees. She scanned her dad's wounds, assessing the damage. Blood stained his shirt where it had been rolled up, Bran trying to make the blood clot in the wound. Her father's eyes were shut closed in pain, his hands shaking, sweating. She lifted the bandage over her father's stomach needing to know how severe the wound was.

Mel's eyes closed, tears welling deep in her throat.

The wound was fatal.

She looked to her brother; his features were set in a grimace to hide his pain. Bran's hair was drenched from the rain, blood smearing one side of his face.

Thoughts, emotions, reactions—Mel didn't know what to call them all fought for her mind's attention. She couldn't sort anything out as she realized what was going to happen. They couldn't go the hospital—they'd be seized and arrested. Julen was their best chance at saving their father's life, but she hadn't come back yet. Mel couldn't—or wouldn't, she didn't know—come to terms with what was happening.

Her father was going to die.

The worst part? She couldn't do anything to stop. With all the technology their world had to offer, all their medical advances, the Brugh couldn't be apart of any of it. Because they were the thorn in the side of the mayor.

Everyone who had run with her father's gang, as the blues had so graciously named their resistance, knew the risk they took. They were rebels in the eyes of the police; neighborhoods refusing to conform to the city's new laws and restrictions being set down by the mayor. Mel and Bran's father was their leader.

But that didn't make the loss of a member, and friend, any easier. Mel walked out of the room, her expression and emotions confused with how to feel, as her face remained distant. Bran stayed with their father. She couldn't deal with this all at once; it was too much for her. She had barely survived the loss of her mother–and even that wound hadn't healed yet–but even then it had taken both Bran and Ewan days to get her out of her room and back out onto the streets again.

"Are you sure we can't take him to County General? What about going to the cops for help..." Oria asked, her eyes glittering with tears as she sat helplessly on the couch.

Mel shook her head. "All the hospitals in this part of town answer to the police, and you know Merindar has them under his belt. The cops aren't an answer anymore," Mel supplied, her tone isolated.

Hunter was the next to speak. "Mel…he took the bullet for me. If there's…anything…" he couldn't find the words that could repay the debt he now owed her father. Hunter had seen the gun, yet he hadn't moved. He had frozen up, and now the cost was their leader's life.

"There is something," Mel said, walking over to the fireplace, she stared into the licking flames until resolve formed itself in her heart, making everything else in her go cold. Everything, except for the searing revenge slowly bubbling beneath the surface.

"We're going to stop him," she began after a long silence had passed in the common room. "We're going to find the proof we need and take it above his head and watch him squirm." Mel's voice had changed, now very deep.

"Mel…?" Oria wasn't sure she could trust this new Mel, one she didn't even recognize. The look in Mel's eyes startled Oria.

"Galdran Merindar will pay for what he's done," she continued, her eyes reflecting the heat of the flames. "Anyone who's helped him…anyone who's supported him. They'll pay." A single tear rolled down her cheek, sliding onto her lower lip. The salt was a bitter taste, as was the bitter feeling of loss in her heat.

"I'm going to make sure of it," Mel whispered.

**o O o**

Post-it: So I'm putting off all other fics in progress at the moment (except TTPOT) because my muse keeps attacking me with ideas for this fic. And the fact that my mind has now started to **attempt** to adapt Crown Duel to make it into a script for a movie isn't helping either. By the way, would any of you guys like to see that if I ever do get it written down? Anyway, working on how to adapt the book for _this_ fic...cough…Ewan. If you'd like a second chap review and let me know, dropping off a few ideas would be (_insert another word for appreciated since it is horrendously over used_).

'Kay, now…review!

_**Cassie**_


	2. Chapter 2 : Running

**Rogue Reverie**

**o O o**

**Chapter Two**

The funeral was held two days later.

Everyone who was a part of the Brugh attended, and all of them were like stone against the downpour of rain that refused to relent. They had already buried their leader, and now the gathered group of sixty or so stood huddled close together on the rooftop, sweatshirts soaked with rain.

"I don't need to say how great my father was, because I know he saved each of your lives at least once at one time or another," Mel began, addressing the entire group that stood before her. She hadn't lost that look in her eye since the day her father had died, and it still continued to worry Oria, Bran and Ewan. No one knew where Mel had gone. She hadn't gone anywhere, really, but she wasn't entirely there either.

"We all made a promise…I made a promise to him. To see our city restored to what it once was," she continued. Everyone's attention was drawn to Mel—they had never seen their fiercest fighter speak like this before. Though they wouldn't admit it, it scared them. "I don't intend on breaking that promise," Mel's voice dropped for a moment as she let her eyes close. After a moment, she opened them again and continued, "For the next week no one does anything. We wait. We've already lost seven to the city streets, I'll not risk any more of your lives until we're ready."

There were nods and agreements spreading through the group. They would listen to Meliara, the only daughter of their leader, the only one gutsy enough to take command of their cause. They knew that Bran had been wary of doing so, but would do everything he could to protect his younger sister while she fought.

"Be with your loved ones, and rest," Mel concluded, her voice still detached. After a moment, a small smile spread across her lips. "Blues wouldn't dare enter Brugh territory," she said, her voice taunting. Whistles and shouts of agreement met that last line. Everyone knew what Mel was talking about—the attack the police had _attempted_ a few weeks ago in the Brugh.

After that the group dispersed and made their way back into the apartment building, out of the rain, and to their homes scattered through the neighborhood. Mel stood there afterwards, Ewan pausing at the entrance to the stairs before finally turning and leaving. He couldn't reach Mel—she needed space now. Oria had convinced Bran to give Mel some time, concerned that if she didn't, someone would get hurt. Mel's temper was something Oria had grown up with.

Walking over to the building's edge, Mel propped a foot up on the ledge, resting her elbow on her knee and letting out a slow, deep breath. The rain cast a grey blanket over what parts of the city she could see from the building. The Brugh wasn't a rich neighborhood, but it did have its industrial beauties, a grey tower building a few blocks down that overlooked the entire city was one of them. Mel's dad had told her that was her tower, her playground. She had believed the story then.

The patter of rain on cement was white noise to Mel, as were the sirens that were heard blocks away, echoing through the air like a bad omen waiting to come true. Ambulances, squad vehicles, fire trucks, police cars…she had seen them all in action even before she knew what they were.

Mel looked down at her hands, covered in gloves that only exposed the upper parts of her fingers and thumb. A scar on the skin between her forefinger and thumb made her remember the night of her mother's death. She turned away; feeling the prickle of tears in her eyes at the memory, and instead back to civil war that had now claimed her father's life.

A week.

That would give her enough time.

**o O o**

"If you are sure it was their leader than why are we just _sitting_ here like ducks!" Mayor Merindar demanded.

Police Chief Dan Renselaeus took another deep breath to steady his nerves, forcing his temper to settle. If his boss would not shut up soon, someone was going to get hurt, and it wouldn't be him. Shaking the thought, he ordered himself to relinquish those thoughts of torture he had so long reserved for Galdran Merindar. That was a slip his cover could not afford. Thankfully, or not, Debegri answered before he could.

"I would have brought them in weeks ago if you had put me in charge," Debegri cut in, in his most peevish tone. "I would have had them all on trial, and you trusted someone other than blood to do the job?" He asked his cousin. Nenthus Debegri was Galdran's right hand man, but he wasn't his commander. That despicable job was left to Dan Renselaeus.

"Oh, put a _lid_ on it!" Galdran exclaimed, pestered at his cousin's outburst. "Do you have so little faith in our police forces?" He asked him, then turning to Dan, "Now, _why_ can't we storm them again? I see no problem with it," he so airily dismissed the Burgh's forces against his attempts at trying to—ah—resolve the issue.

"Because, Mayor, we've tried that before, if you don't remember," Dan replied in a smooth tone, masking his true reactions to the poor excuse of a pig that stood before him pacing back and forth like the pathetic man he was. Debegri scoffed at his reply. "The, we'll call it an attempt, to detain the Brugh's forces turned into a massacre. We lost twenty three men, and if I'm not mistaken, we only hit two of theirs and have no way of knowing if they survived or not," Dan refreshed his boss's memory.

The mere memory of that night sent chills down Dan's spine. He didn't support the idea of trying to capture the Brugh members, but Mayor Galdran Merindar would have none of his "nonsense" talk and had ordered him to take three full squads in an attempt to "detain the necessary perpetrators of these heinous crimes". Galdran's words, they made Dan want to break his boss's face. And though the Dan was sure they outnumbered the neighborhood's people 5 to 1, it had done them no good. The Brugh had been prepared, and used their knowledge of the city's lay to outwit his men, killing almost an entire squad.

"Yes, yes, you don't need to remind me of your mens' insolence!" Galdran exclaimed, clearly peeved at the fact that his Police Chief had brought up one of their biggest mistakes he had ordered. That almost made Dan scream at the man

_His mens' insolence?_ Who the _hell_ ordered the damn attack in the first place? Dan's men had done everything they could—the Brugh members were better prepared, that was the plain truth of it. He had lost twenty-three men, and had to visit seventeen families and tell them what had happened. It still haunted him. Dan's eyes blazed with fury, both Galdran and Debegri taking no notice of his outrage at the Mayor's words.

"Just—" Galdran stopped, pressing a meaty palm to his head trying to calm his nerves. When he turned to face Dan again, his eyes were afire. "Just find me their _new_ leaders and hold them or I'll have you fired and tried for obliteration of justice!" He threatened, and it wasn't a new threat either. Dan heard Debegri stifle a laugh with his hands in vain at his cousin's comment.

The Police Chief sighed, able to let go of his anger for the moment. _Obliteration?_ Mayor Merindar had said some very stupid things of late, of course Dan couldn't correct him or else it might have cost him his job, but—_obliteration_? The term was obstruction of justice, if Dan's police training hadn't failed him. But he knew that his boss wouldn't hesitate to lock him up for a few days just because he got on his nerves. Dan decided against answering him.

"I'll kill every one of them, I don't care how many men it takes! They will not be the reason I lose this election, do you understand!" Galdran seethed, resuming his pacing.

Dan did his best not to scoff. _Him actually _doing_ the dirty work_, he mused, _what a site that would be_.

"_I_ could've done it already…" Debegri muttered, sending a death glare at Dan who merely looked at him with indifference in return.

"Oh, shut up!" Galdran exclaimed again in an exasperated tone. "I don't have time for your whining!" Debegri crossed his arms and took a seat, his brow furrowing in a pout. Dan also did his best not to roll his eyes at Debegri's childishness, however common it was for Debegri to throw fits such as these, as well as his cousin Galdran.

At least he would be able to escape his boss and Debegri for a little while. His precinct was holding another meeting later that night, and it would give the Police Chief a well needed break from Galdran's ranting.

**o O o**

"Where are you going?" Oria asked, trying to keep her voice low. Everyone was asleep, save two people. It was sometime after midnight, and the only reason Oria was up was because she and Mel shared a room.

"Out." Mel continued to search through her bag. Where was her pocketknife?

"Out? Again—Mel you can't keep doing this!" Oria exclaimed, her voice cracking in whisper.

"Watch me," Mel countered, her eyes never leaving her bag and fumbling hands. Pulling out a few more things from her duffle she found her pocketknife. Sliding it into her jacket pocket, she pulled on her black beanie and tucked her hair—which was wrapped in a bun because if its incredible length—inside her jacket so as not to draw attention to herself. There were only four redheads in the city, her, Bran, the Mayor, and the Mayor's sister. And Mel looked nothing like her.

"Mel, you've got to stop. You can't keep running out like this—you're going to get caught!" Oria tried to persuade her. "As good a street runner as you are, you'll get caught," she admitted, taking a seat on the mattress that was her bed.

"I'm not running, and I'll only be out for a little while," Mel said turning to face Oria. "End of conversation," she said with a quirked smile. This was how most of their conversations ended, and both knew it well.

Oria nodded, knowing that there was no changing Mel's mind once it was made up, especially if she was set on going on her night explorations like she had done so often since she had lost her mother. _And now_, Oria thought sadly, _we don't have her father to talk some sense into her_.

"I'll be back before sunrise," Mel said with a weak smile for what was supposed to be reassurance. After a moment, she walked out, leaving Oria with her thoughts.

The metal door clanked shut with a thud, making Oria wince at the noise that had broken the silence. She had been the only one that would talk to Mel after her mother had died. Everyone in the Brugh knew the event had changed the redheaded fighter. Mel would stay out longer on patrols; take twice as many targets as anyone else. And when she would shoot, she wouldn't aim for the shoulder—the easiest place to take a bullet, showing mercy—Mel would aim for their legs. It had scared Mel's father, and Oria had been the only one that would approach Mel and try to talk to her about it. Even Ewan knew to give Mel space then.

A muffled knock on the other side of the door brought Oria from her thoughts.

"Come in," Oria called, leaning up against the wall, which was a crumbling plaster.

Charic, an orphan who had become like a big brother to Oria, entered. She looked up as he walked in the room, an eyebrow raised. She hadn't expected to see the nineteen-year-old up so late—or early, Oria though, depending on how you looked at time. Charic took a seat on Mel's mattress across from Oria, running a hand through his messy brown hair.

"She's gone off again hasn't she?" Charic asked, already knowing the answer.

Like Oria and Mel shared a room, Ewan was Charic's roommate. Charic had lost both of his parents when he was young. His mother, who had had to be taken to County General Hospital during her pregnancy, had died giving birth to Charic. His father was arrested for conspiracy against the Mayor. Charic had been put up for adoption after his father died in prison, of supposedly, a broken heart. Julen, Oria's mother, was now his legal guardian.

The younger girl nodded. "I don't know what to do, and this time her father isn't here to stop her," she said, her voice weak with exhaustion.

Charic stood and walked over to Oria, taking a seat next to her. Oria leaned on his shoulder, welcoming the support. Wrapping an arm around his younger friend, Charic said, "She'll be fine. Mel's a fighter, and a damn good one at that." He hoped the words would give Oria comfort. Oria smiled at this—no one _could_ best Mel in a hand fight. "Isn't it your birthday tomorrow?" Charic asked.

Oria's mouth quirked in a smile. "It is," she confirmed. She had forgotten her own birthday. And she would be turning sixteen! Then her spirits fell. Could she enjoy her birthday after they had just lost Mel's father?

"She'll be all right, Oria, I promise," Charic said again, hoping to relieve some of his sister's worry. Oria nodded, wanting to believe his words even though she couldn't shake her doubts.

**o O o**

Thankfully, Mel didn't run into anyone else on her way out of the apartment. She knew that Naomi, not to mention Julen, wouldn't be too keen on her going out this late at night…again. _They pity me too much to stop me from going out_, Mel thought cynically. And it was true, only no one would admit it because Mel and Bran were the only leaders they had left.

Reaching the last flight of stairs, Mel jumped the five steps to the ground floor. She cursed her stupidity when she landed wrong on her ankle, sending a shot of dull pain up her leg. _It'll be fine by morning_, Mel thought with a sigh. A sore ankle was a petty injury for members of the Brugh, since their resident doctor, Julen, had knowledge enough of how to dress gunshot wounds. It seemed like something out of an action movie, but flying bullets for the Brugh was everyday life, even for the children.

Rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm them up, Mel pushed open the apartment door, a thick metal slab that always tested her strength every time she opened it. Mel stepped out, and waited until the bulk of the door closed behind her, the lock resetting itself.

It was still raining.

Pulling her hoodie up over her head to cover her beanie, Mel walked down the stoop with care, as her ankle was still sore from its less-than-perfect landing. Though it was night, the moon was high in the sky, and full as ever giving everything around Mel an unnatural pallid hue. Streetlights cast an eerie glow on the parts of the sidewalk that it illuminated, and the only sounds that met Mel's ears was the continual patter of rain, and those all too familiar sirens in the distance. She started off down the sidewalk, not bothering to walk under the few overhands that offered protection from the rain.

**o O o**

Mel had already jogged twenty-seven blocks and there was just one problem: she wasn't tired.

She tred carefully along the sidewalk—she wasn't in Brugh neighborhood anymore—and was past the outskirts of the city, now in the Blues' territory. Though the passing cars, including the police cars, paid her no mind, she was careful so as not to draw attention to herself. Bran would never forgive her if she got caught, or better, if she got killed.

As Mel passed another alleyway, she spotted a fire escape that seemed to go up the entire length of the building. To her relief, the alley was deserted. Relieved to have a challenge, she turned into the dank lane, and hiking up her drenched sweatshirt began climbing up the rusted ladder that served as a fire escape for the building.

Her arm muscles were used to the exercise as they worked quickly bringing her up above the streets, finally pulling her over the edge of the building and onto the rooftop. Mel loved the work out, especially the feeling of her heated skin being hit with cold rain.

The building hadn't looked deserted from the street, but now on the roof, Mel noticed that smoke was coming out of the whirling metal chimney, no trash littered the rooftop, and a newly installed skylight made up of three connecting windows that looked down into the top floor of the building.

"And what have we here…" Mel wondered. She noticed the rain starting to come down harder now, droplets the size of dimes instead of the persistent patter she had traveled up blocks from the apartment in. Walking over towards the skylight, mindful not to step on anything that might create noise enough to give her away in the darkness. Her thick-soled boots silenced her footsteps.

Leaning over the skylight, Mel's hands found the ledge surrounding the glass.

**o O o**

MyMissive: I am in fact going to leave you there. I was never one for long drawn out back-story before you actually get to the plot, so for this, the plot's taking off quite fast. Also, a people had some questions concerning Ewan. Well, this is going to be a modern day fic of Crown Duel, but I need to add in other subplots to make it my own as well, and not build completely off of Sherwood's work, even though this is fanfiction. As for Ewan...I have plans for him and Mel, some that I've already begun to shadow. And why Vidanric's name is still Dan will be revealed, that change was intentional.

By the way, does anyone know what Debegri's first name is? I couldn't find it in my copy of _Crown Duel_ and I looked forever. If anyone knows it, please let me know and I'll change it if it's wrong.

LoKi-iNsPiReD: I know! I've seen so many modern day fics I just had to write one myself, glad you like it. Well, I can't reveal too much so early on, but I would say that you're on the right track with where I'm going with Mel and Ewan. I do have some twists up ahead for the couple.

Dramafool: Okay, when I've got a few more scenes written I'll post them somewhere. Hope you like chapter two just as much and thanks for the funny review - "suffer my wrath", lol.

Sheyana: 'Exeedingly useful' does work, and I might use it...I'm glad you haven't formed an opinion yet, the plot's going to be taking off very soon so I hope you enjoy it when we get there! Thank you for reviewing!

Pete27: Ewan is my added in subplot, just something so you guys don't know everything that I'm going to be doing in this. He'll come into play soon, though. And it is a big job, but it's fun too. Mel gets to learn how to street fight, and Dan gets to use a gun...it's really fun. Thanks for the review!

Wake-Robin: Mel ending up with Vidanric...you'll have to see how that pans out. Ewan is a huge part of this too, and yes, I can't blame you for wanting to see Mel and Danric end up together. But for now, I can tell you your questions will be answered soon...in about four to five chapters soon, if that can be a soon. Anyway, thank you for the review!

I've been trying to decide whether or not to have a sequel to this, which would be Court Duel, adapted, or to have it as one big fic. What do you guys think?

With all that said, I hope you enjoyed chapter two—now, review!

_**Cassie**_


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